


Secrets

by agenderalien (rainbowballz)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowballz/pseuds/agenderalien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generally, when one wishes to keep a secret, it is expected to not be put on display for all to see in the middle of the Promenade on a Tuesday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I am Julian/Elim *trash*, okay. Absolute garbage.
> 
> I wrote this all in one sitting, reread it once, and honestly all I know is that these two idiots are ridiculous, and I love them. 
> 
> Rated Mature to be safe but nothing explicit is described.

Julian Bashir is good at many things: medicine and tennis being the most well known, but he also prides himself on his skills in chess - Human chess, anyway, as he had learned the hard way that chess in both Vulcan and Klingon cultures were drastically different games (the latter didn’t even involve a board of any kind, just weapons and, unsurprisingly, a lot of shouting) - he thinks himself a decent cook considering he has spent most of his life on starships and stations with few means to prepare non-replicated food, and, perhaps above all, he thinks rather highly of his charm in romantic pursuits, if he does say so himself. Unlike most people - and he included every species he had ever met in this statement - he did not often feel nervous or hesitant around those he was interested in, and even when he did, he found it relatively easy to push aside in favor of focusing on the goal; being, of course, to woo them silly. And with few exceptions, including Jadzia Dax, he was very successful in this department of his life.

Sometimes he wonders if he is a bit too proud of this particular gift of his, that some day his hubris will catch up with him, but Julian cannot seem to help himself - he simply loves romance. He loves the chase, the banter, all of the firsts: the first date, the first kiss, the first night spent together, the first morning after. He loves the teasing and the give-and-take and the falling, good Prophets, the falling. Yes, falling in love - Julian is very good at that. Staying in love is another thing entirely, but that is neither here nor there. He is having fun, first and foremost. Human lives are much too short to do anything otherwise, in his opinion.

A man of many skills and talents, Julian thought himself, but, of course, flawed as well. A terrible singer, an even worse dancer, and downright awful at anything to do with art - but perhaps worst of all, Julian Bashir is very, very bad at keeping secrets.

Not that he couldn’t be trusted. Doctor-patient confidentiality, for example, is something he takes very seriously. Anything to do with his job, with Starfleet, is naturally safe. But gossip? Both of his own life and what he heard in the Promenade or at Quark’s or wherever, of the lives of others? So and so are shagging in utility closets during lunch breaks? A beautiful Bajoran woman had recently come onto the station that Julian found quite alluring? Shady business at Quark’s? Well, no. Julian is not very good at keeping his mouth shut when it comes to juicy stories like these. After all, within an hour of meeting Garak for the first time, he had told everyone in Ops about it. It’s a good thing he has friends who enjoy his gossip, anyway, personal or otherwise, or he’d be bored to tears. Sure, he enjoyed the occasional debate, literary analysis, philosophical conversation - but if that was what he was limited to, he’d go mad.

There was one thing that he had yet to share with his friends and colleagues, however, of a personal nature, and he found it both exciting and infuriating. What good were secrets, anyway, he’d tell himself over drinks with Miles or Jadzia, on the very edge of blurting it out, just so he could taste the words, just so he could see the reaction it could cause. Where was the fun in pretending he wasn’t falling in love?

There had been times in the past where Julian had to tiptoe around a lover, but it was always very tongue-in-cheek, always playful. A fun little game, stealing away in the night, sneaking around friends and family, but merely for the the fun of it. Never before had there been any real kind of risk involved. 

This time, however, there is considerable risk, and that both excited and frustrated Julian immensely. On the one hand, it was new, another first, and an element of danger always served to spice things up a bit, but on the other, he knew he was toeing a very delicate line, that if it wasn’t handled just so, it would all come undone. Not unlike chess, this game had to be strategic, for both of their sakes.

So Julian had kept his mouth shut. He hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone, not his closest his friends, not his superiors, not a single soul. Not even in his personal logs. And he is quite proud of it, too, considering how open he generally is about his life and his feelings. Sometimes, he feels like he is undercover.

Sometimes, he feels like a spy.

He’d be lying if he said it isn’t fun in its own right. As he walked down a mostly empty corridor beside Garak on an unremarkable Tuesday morning with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other just barely brushing the Cardassian’s beside him, he is quite smug, actually, that everyone is none the wiser, that no one knows he had come straight from Garak’s quarters instead of his own, that just a few hours prior he had been fucked so good that his toes curled. 

It’s intoxicating, having secrets, Julian decides, curling his grin behind his coffee mug as he brought it to his mouth for a tentative sip. No wonder Garak hoards them like some kind of dragon with a glutton for information. 

“You’ll give us away, grinning like that,” Garak says, as if tuned into Julian’s thoughts.

The doctor’s lips only broaden. “I am not that transparent, am I?”

“As glass, my dear.” Garak waves a dismissive hand. “But perhaps it is just my attention to detail. I am sure no one else is looking at you quite as closely.”

“And if they were?” Julian alters his steps to the left just slightly, just enough that the back of his hand makes brief contact with Garak’s once again. “Would you be jealous?”

Garak chuckles, a low, delicious sound. “I would be wary. Besides, a jealous Cardassian is hazardous, at best. At worst, deadly.” 

“Sounds like you have staked a claim on me, Garak.” 

“Haven’t I, Doctor?”

Julian feels his cheeks becoming very warm. It is not normally him that is doing the blushing, but it is a welcome change. As they enter the Promenade, the duo walk farther apart. He returns a nod to Odo as they pass him standing at attention in its center. 

“Does that mean …” Julian trails off when they reach the door to Garak’s shop. Garak had been reaching for the key card in his breast pocket but pauses at the question Julian did not finish. 

“Yes?” Garak invited, smiling as warmly as a reptilian-like creature is capable of.

“Nevermind.” If Julian did not ask, he could not be disappointed by the answer. “Will we be having lunch together today?”

“We had lunch together yesterday. And the day before.” Garak produces the keycard and punches it into the lock. With a registering beep, the door slides open. “Lights,” Garak says, and the computer responds at once, illuminating clothing racks, mannequins, walls of bags and shoes. “Don’t you think people will find it suspicious if we have lunch every day?”

Julian’s face falls in disappointment. “I suppose.”

“Darling, don’t pout. It causes wrinkles in your species.”

“I’m not pouting. I just … enjoy your company.”

“Judging by the noises you were making last night, I gathered that much.” Garak is grinning like an absolute devil. “What was it you said, again? That I was crafted specifically to be inside you?” His voice drops into a sultry drawl that Julian positively melts for, and it is the most risque thing Garak has ever said to him in public, and there are a considerable amount of people in the Promenade now that Julian is only peripherally aware of and they are standing awfully close to one another… 

“I believe the exact wording was that I’m molded for your cock, actually,” Julian whispers, because if Garak was going to play this game, then by the Prophets, he would too. 

“Mm, that’s it,” Garak hums, and while his pupils have widened considerably, he is otherwise unfazed by the private nature of their conversation. Julian, on the other hand, is very, very hot. “And I am inclined to agree with that statement. You are quite pliant in my hands, you know. Like k’buni.”

“I love it when you talk Cardassian to me, even if I haven’t the foggiest idea what that word means.”

“I believe the closest translation would be … clay. Soft, yielding, easily manipulated-”

“Hey, now.”

“Only in the bedroom, my dear Doctor, of course.”

Julian laughs. He cannot remember a chase quite so fun or banter quite as stimulating. He stares pointedly at Garak’s mouth and knows that he hasn’t kissed lips quite like those before, either. 

And, well, it’s Garak’s fault, really. Garak and that damned mouth of his. Because without realizing it, without pausing to think about it, without a single thought in his head that isn’t all on Garak, Julian kisses him. It is all lips, warm and gentle and soft. It is a natural thing, something they have done a hundred times in Garak’s quarters and Julian’s bed, once or twice in the closet of the infirmary. It happens just like breathing, like a reflex.

It is only after they part, both with a content sigh, and Julian is gazing dreamily into Garak’s blue eyes that he realizes he forgot something very important. 

Generally, when one wishes to keep a secret, it is expected to not be put on display for all to see in the middle of the Promenade on a Tuesday morning. 

Suddenly, Julian is very aware of many eyes trained on his back. He watches Garak blink slowly, registering what had just happened, and then becoming the picture of pleased. 

“I suppose we both need to work on being a little more opaque, don’t we, Doctor?” Garak turns, slips into his shop, but faces a still stunned Julian a moment later. “At least now, if anyone looks at you too closely, they will know why they have a jealous Cardassian on their hands.”

Julian clears his throat. He straightens his back and, speaking loud enough for Garak and anyone close enough to hear, he says, “I will see you at lunch, then?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.” Garak replies, just as loudly, and he smiles with ease.

Julian, he realizes, doesn’t care much for secrets anyway. Falling in love is much more fun when the whole world can see it.

Besides, if he had known that Odo’s face would look like that when he turned around, Julian might have just done it on purpose if he could do it again.


End file.
